


I won't ask you to wait (if you don't ask me to stay)

by SunshineChildx



Category: RWBY
Genre: Angst, Childhood Friends, Christmas, Cuddling & Snuggling, Exes to Lovers, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, It's 'Dorothea' and 'Tis The Damn Season' in a bees' fic, Mutual Pining, New Year's Eve, Slow Burn, Smut (Not Explicit But Implied), What If We Kissed And Accidentally Fell In Love Again?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:27:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28382448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunshineChildx/pseuds/SunshineChildx
Summary: From childhood friends to lovers, Yang and Blake's relationship drifted when Blake left to live in L.A., leaving Yang aching behind in their hometown. Blake comes back with her family every Christmas and they rediscover their love over and over again.“You’re leaving, I know that much.” Yang says, runs the pad of her thumb across Blake’s bottom lip, biting her own without realizing it. “But you’re mine now. You’re mine for the weekend.”
Relationships: Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long
Comments: 27
Kudos: 99





	I won't ask you to wait (if you don't ask me to stay)

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is heavily based on Taylor Swift's songs 'tis the damn season and Dorothea. It also references the song 'All Too Well' often. And basically there are a ton of references to both folklore and evermore.  
> So, if you're a fan of Taylor Swift's songs, try to find all the references :)  
> If you're not, just enjoy this bitterweet story of love between two people that find love in the wrong place at the wrong time.

(It’s snowing, small and fragile snowflakes float down to where Yang and Blake are standing, on the front porch of Yang’s house, melting on the palm of Yang’s hand. It’s like they’re both inside their own bubble of snow and sparkly things, the outside world almost forgotten, _almost._

For Yang, this scene is painfully familiar. There’s something between them, there always has been - a love greater than time, carved in the shape of their tangled limbs, their intertwined hands, and every scar in between. But Blake has to go to another city, leave it all behind - leave Yang behind.

“Yang.” Blake calls, golden eyes darting away.

“I know.” Yang says, because there’s not much else to say at this point.

Blake swallows and says. “It’s time.”

“I know.” Yang repeats, stupidly, like she’s just letting whatever words she has stockpiled in her mouth fall out of it. “Blake… Just this once, can’t you just--”

Blake sighs, the air leaving her lips and forming a tiny white cloud in the space that separates them.

“Don’t. Yang, please _don’t_.” Yang watches her with lilac eyes that never judge and a body that always comforts; she doesn’t ask for more than she’s giving, and she doesn’t try to pull her closer this time. Blake’s hand wavers when she finds Yang’s face, strokes her cheekbone with her thumb, and then whispers. “I’ll come back, but please… don't ask me to stay. Okay?”

Yang blinks and Blake’s standing in front of her, smile warm and flickering, like a memory she’s replayed one too many times now. _I’ll wait for you_ , her voice speaks from the inside of Yang’s soul. _I’ll break my heart and watch you leave, standing right here so you can always come back_. 

“You know I’m not one to hold you back. I wouldn’t forgive myself.”

Blake’s teeth tug on her bottom lip, and she exhales in a breath shorter than it should be. She says unsteadily, “Goodbye, Yang.”

Blake’s mouth tenses into a firm line and walks away, running a hand through her hair, not looking back. Yang watches her go, melancholic and wounded, resigned. 

As she watches Blake leave, she can’t get the image of them out of her mind, curled up together in their bed, damaged and temporary - and whole. And now, gone. _You know what we have can’t go on for forever_ , Blake had said. _Then give me everything, give me all of you in the numbered days that we have_ , Yang had replied. Her stare falls to the snow-covered ground.

 _Alright._ Blake had smiled. _After all, if it's okay with you, it's okay with me._

When Blake’s car leaves and grows into a tiny spot that Yang can’t follow with her eyes anymore, she finds herself standing alone. She feels like an empty and crumpled up piece of paper, cold wind in her hair flushing her cheeks, and she slowly walks the road back home.)

* * *

Yang’s in her room.

Today’s the day the Belladonna’s come home for the Christmas holidays, she’s supposed to be picking them up at the airport now; instead, she’s on her phone, scrolling through Blake’s Instagram pictures, unsure how to feel about seeing her again.

 _Hey, Blake, do you ever stop and think about me?_ A voice sounds in her head because it’s been too long, and the last couple of texts that Blake sent her are still left unread on her phone, but she’s not sure she’ll ever ask this to Blake herself.

Yang doesn’t want to think of the last time that she saw her, the ache in the pit of her stomach too much to bear this early in the morning, so she thinks about pleasant memories instead. She’s going to be seeing her today, she has to make sure she can put up a happy face when her eyes finally find Blake’s again in what feels like a million years. She thinks of simpler times, and she soon finds a memory there, peeking through her cloud of shared moments and endless nights.

She remembers how Blake used to come to her house early in the morning when they were kids, crossing the street that separated their houses, that still does; shoelaces untied and purple ribbon in her hair, she’d knock on Yang’s door and wait for her, walking hand in hand to the park - _it was safer this way_ , Summer used to say, and Yang remembers the touch of Blake’s smaller hand in hers. Maybe that’s when it all started, maybe it’s a feeling that’s always been there, even before they first saw each other at kindergarten.

Now, all Yang has are pictures of Blake on the tiny screen of the phone, fragments of her life that show her the same Blake she's always known, except it’s a completely different person, in a completely different place, with shiny new friends and Yang’s not a part of that anymore.

Her chest shrinks. She really doesn’t know how to feel about seeing her again.

Ruby opens the door.

“Yang?” She’s smiling, excited for the Belladonna’s to come to their house for the festivities. She always likes it when there are more people around. “You’re still here? They should be arriving any minute now, you’re gonna be late!”

“I’m gonna be fine.” Yang locks her phone and puts it in her back pocket. She goes up to the door. “Have I ever been late anywhere?”

“Well, there’s that one time at prom when you decided to _not_ show up - “

“Oh? What’s that? I think dad’s calling for me. Goodbye, Ruby!”

Yang walks down the stairs.

“Catch!” Taiyang tosses Yang her keys. Yang catches them.

“Geez, dad. I could’ve lost an eye or something!”

“But you didn’t!” He says. “You sure you don’t want me to come with? I can drive, and you can catch up with--”

“I’m alright, dad. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

Yang gets in the car and starts driving to the airport. It’s snowing outside, and the city is quiet and peaceful. With the festivities approaching, she’s expecting to see more people on the streets, singing and hurriedly buying last moment presents, but it’s too early in the morning for that, yet.

She’s so caught up in her own daydream, her thoughts tangled like Christmas decorations, that she arrives at the airport shortly after, almost without noticing the passing of the time. She’s almost at the end of the street, looking for a place to park the car, when suddenly--

She sees her.

It’s Blake, standing by the front door of the airport, one hand loosely securing her suitcase, the other pushing dark strands of hair out of her face, the air condensing into tiny clouds as soon as it leaves her lips. Her presence has always demanded attention, Yang’s been painfully aware since forever, but now it suffocatingly fills every corner of Yang’s chest, making her feel claustrophobic as her breath catches in her lungs, unable to look away.

Quite literally, because the traffic light just turned red, and Yang almost runs through it with the car, eyes glued to Blake’s figure on that little town street, wind in her hair and it looks like something Yang would remember, almost like a memory.

Yang parks the car and walks up to the Belladonna’s, finally acknowledging Khali and Ghira’s presence as well, ever so polite and familiar with them. But when it comes to Blake… Yang hesitates. She hasn’t spoken to Blake since she left town one year ago, and despite their close bond, the air surrounding them is charged with awkwardness.

“Yang.” Blake says. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Yeah.” Yang nods. “Good to see you too, Blake.”

The ride home isn’t that bad, since Yang has to focus all her attention on the road - not that she’s ever been the most responsible driver, but anything’s better than having to lock her eyes with Blake’s golden irises again, the intensity of her stare burning at the back of her mind; and she gnaws at her bottom lip, biting all the unsaid words that rest on the tip of her tongue, tucking them inside.

Khali and Ghira insisted on sitting on the back seats, leaving the front seat to Blake, who’s never been a chatty person, but she’s trying to fill the awkward silence with mundane happy chattering about how wonderful her novelist job in LA is, about how the leaves crunch under her feet on her way back home across a big and old park, about all the people she’s met and how they’ve helped her grow in the world of high literature. But Yang can’t muster up the energy to talk right now. 

_If I wanted to know who you were hanging with while you were gone, I would have asked you,_ she thinks, and she immediately regrets it, frowning at her traitorous heart. Blake’s happy, this isn’t the time to be sulking, Yang should be happy for her.

Once they arrive at the Xiao Long-Rose household, everything feels like a _déjà vu_ , like a scene Yang’s seen one too many times.

“If it isn’t my favourite family!” Taiyang says, hands on his hips and a dazzling smile dancing on his lips. “Khali, Ghira.”

A bolt of red runs past them, and soon Ruby’s got her arms wrapped around Blake’s middle, a smile impossibly larger on her face.

“Blake!”

“Good to see you too, Ruby.” Blake chuckles, returning the hug.

“Welcome, welcome!” Taiyang says, gesturing towards the front door. “Please, come in. It’s freezing out there.”

“Don’t mind if we do, old friend.” Ghira says.

“Thank you for having us one more year.” Khali smiles. “My, Ruby! You’ve grown an awful lot since we saw you last year!”

“Yeah, dad says I’ve grown five centimetres!”

Khali enters the house, Ruby following closely behind. Blake follows them, walks past Yang and leaves behind a trail of cold air that makes Yang’s hair bristle, the kind of cold that fogs up windshield glass; her hand is on the doorframe when she turns back.

“Yang.” Blake says after a moment of hesitance. “Are you coming?”

Something’s wrong. Or, at least, completely different from what they used to be, what they _should_ be, Yang notices. Maybe it’s the way her lips quiver when Blake said her name, or the way her golden eyes seem a little too full - but Yang’s not ready to face the ghosts of all that they left behind just yet. So she just shrugs, paints in a beautiful smile just for her, hopes that it is enough.

“Yeah.” Yang says. “I’m right behind you.”

She walks through the door with Blake, the cold air trailing behind them like a memory - and even though everything’s changed between them, the place they’ve grown up in is the same as it ever was, for a split second, something about it feels like _home_ somehow.

* * *

They all fall into an easy pattern, like time never passed, like they never left in the first place.

When Taiyang married Raven Branwen during an especially warm autumn, they bought a house by the coastline. They soon became friends with all the neighbors - perhaps it would be more accurate to say that _Taiyang_ became friends with the neighbors -, especially with the Belladonna’s, who lived right across the street. 

When Yang was growing up, she used to spend all day and many nights with the only daughter the Belladonna’s had. Even when Raven left and Taiyang married Summer Rose, the Belladonna’s were there to support Tai and Yang - and shortly after, Ruby - in every way they could.

Blake and Yang soon became an inseparable pair - Yang remembers summer mornings going fishing with Blake and Ghira, evenings helping Kali with her garden and making a happy mess of soil and roots, nights of sneaking Blake into her room and falling asleep to her voice reading books about fantasy, princesses and dragons.

Blake was Yang’s first love. And sometimes, Yang thinks she was Blake’s first love, too. She never dared to ask.

She thinks of Blake when they were sixteen, seventeen, eighteen; holding on to her touch like a prayer, eyes open into a mess of confessions, and trust, and first times, and _love_. She thinks of sleepless nights next to Blake, both watching the stars twinkling over and down the hills, the overwhelming calm of belonging. How she got to the point of dreaming a life of their own; she planned every detail, the sound the wooden floor of their house would make, the colors of the walls they’d paint, the size of their shared bed.

But then Ghira found a new job in LA, he took Kali with him, and Blake decided to follow, leaving behind a faint promise to return for Christmas. She remembers how she got to the point where it hurt so much it eventually stopped feeling like pain at all. And then, Yang was nothing.

“Dad, I’ve brought the blankets you asked for.” Yang says.

“Great. Leave them on that table, I’ll pick them up now.” Tai says.

“Are you sure you don’t want us to help?” Kali says, watching them prepare the house on their behalf. “You’re already doing so much letting us stay here.”

“Nonsense! It’s a family tradition, isn’t it? You’re more than welcome, _and_ you’re guests. We can’t have you doing stuff around, right Rubes?”

“Right you are, dad!” Ruby says.

“Alright, I see you have plenty of help around here.” Yang says. “I’ll be in my room.”

Tai raises an eyebrow, teasing. “Helping Blake settle in?”

“Yeah.” Yang says, rolls her eyes. “Helping Blake settle in.”

Yang finds Blake by the doorframe. If she didn’t know Blake any better, she would almost say she was waiting for her.

“Thank you for having us.” Blake says, attempting to start a conversation.

“Don’t mention it. Family tradition, you know the drill.” Yang says, her words sounding empty.

“Yeah… right.” Blake fidgets, and Yang notices her shivering.

“Are you cold?” Yang asks. She knows things between them aren’t ideal, but she can’t have Blake freezing to death in her own home.

“No, I’m okay.” Blake opens her eyes wider, suddenly startled by Yang’s caring tone.

“I’ve known you my entire life, Belladonna. You don’t have to pretend around me.” There’s a sad tone to Yang’s voice, a softness Blake once knew too well. “Follow me.”

She guides Blake to Yang’s room, Blake’s suitcase half-opened on her bed, and goes through her drawer. She hands her a purple scarf.

Blake instantly recognizes it.

“This is… my scarf.” Yang gave it to her some years ago, a Christmas present. Blake remembers the silky surface on her fingers. “What’s it doing here?”

“You left it here last year.” Yang says. _When you left._

“I thought you emailed me the stuff I left here?”

“I did. But I found the scarf right after. I wasn’t going to pack it again and spend two hours in the queue at the post station.”

Blake’s grasp tightens around the cotton fibre of the scarf. “So you… kept it?”

Yang flushes, furrows her brow. “Just take it.”

 _Look at this idiotic fool that you made me,_ Yang thinks, because she still kept the scarf to herself for so long and so well, as if it somehow kept Blake’s warmth in it. 

Maybe it reminded her of their beginning when there wasn’t a throbbing ache in the pit of her stomach whenever she thought about love; maybe it still smelled like Blake, even faintly; and maybe she couldn’t get rid of it because Yang needed something good to remember her by, even if that memory and her scent always made Yang’s insides burn, and burn, and _burn_.

* * *

It’s the day before Christmas, so there are many things to prepare, but Tai has found an old photo album, and so everyone agreed to take a break and remember the old times.

Photo album on the counter, Yang’s cheeks are turning red. 

There’s a picture of Yang. She’s in first grade, the school’s football uniform too baggy on her.

“Oh my god, Yang!” Ruby laughs. “Why are you missing _so many_ teeth?”

“Shut up, Ruby--”

Tai places a hand on Yang’s head. “I remember how excited she was for her first official match as part of the football team. She barely even slept the night before! And that meant that Summer and I didn’t sleep either.”

Tai, Kali and Ghira laugh.

“Hey, why am I not in any of these pictures?” Ruby frowns. “I didn’t go?”

“You had a tummy ache, that’s why your mom isn’t in the pictures either, she stayed home with you.”

“Were you there, dad?” Yang thinks out loud, placing a finger on her chin. “Because I don’t remember going back home with you.”

“That’s because _we_ picked you up after the match.” Kali says. “Blake was so excited for you when your team won. When we told her you had to go home and rest, she wouldn’t take no for an answer!”

Yang eyes Blake, and she’s slightly blushing.

“Yeah, I think I remember that.” Yang says, looking at her. “I stayed at your place that night, and you told me the doctor had said--”

“--That I had to wear glasses.” Blake sighs, her blush deepening. “I really regretted showing them to you.”

“Why do you say that?” Yang smiles. “I was nothing but a good supporting friend with you.”

Blake’s cheeks flush harder. “You laughed at me the whole night!”

Yang bursts out laughing. “You looked really funny!”

She remembers Blake’s look under the faint glow of her room’s light, her small frame with those big black glasses on an even bigger twin sized bed, laughing together with an intimacy far too deep for her to comprehend at the time; Yang laughed into her hair, curled next to her in bed, and said ’ _don’t worry, you’re still the prettiest girl in the world_ ’.

She didn’t even like football that much, but Yang remembers being seven and Blake’s mother telling stories about her on a tee-ball team, and she thought that football would be even more impressive to Blake.

Looking at the worn out photo album and Blake’s frames intertwined with hers, Yang thinks of the time she shared her past with her, thinking her future was Blake. For Yang, wanting that future was enough - hoping that one day it would be possible was enough.

She finds Blake’s stare across the counter and holds her gaze. There’s an ache behind Blake’s eyes, put there by the ache in Yang, when Blake broke the illusion of their future together as easily as all the promises they made to each other.

But curious time gave her no compasses, no signs, no clues to find. How could Yang ever foresee Blake would break her heart?

* * *

Yang is grateful to whatever powers exist that tomorrow is Christmas and there’s so much to do and so little time, and that keeps her extremely busy throughout the next couple of hours.

Which provides ample excuses to not admit to herself that she’s avoiding Blake.

She misses the closeness and comfort they used to have with each other, but she’s not really sure where they are standing now. Childhood friends, best friends, prom dates, lovers, to barely old acquaintances - and she hates that she’s part of the reason why; all of Blake’s texts are still unread on her phone. She can’t really blame Blake for eventually giving up on her.

Blake wants to fix this, she wants to close the distance between them, Yang can tell by the accidental brushes of their hands when putting on the Christmas decorations, the longing stares across the room, the way she bites her bottom lip like tucking away all the words that she doesn’t want to spill out just yet.

Yang is painfully aware, but she doesn’t know how to feel about that.

Time flies past them, spilling like an hourglass, and it’s almost time for dinner.

Tai has prepared a room for Kali and Ghira. It’s supposed to be the guest room, but nobody really calls it like that, they all know it’s Kali and Ghira’s room for when they come back each year. They sold their old house when they moved to LA four years ago, but each Christmas they come home for the festivities because they’re all still a family - Belladonna’s and Xiao Long’s and Rose. They’re so helplessly intertwined that they gravitate around each other, just like Blake gravitates around Yang, and the other way around.

“Sweetheart,” Kali calls Yang. She likes the familiar nickname, she hasn’t had a mother figure in so long. “Have you seen Blake?”

“I haven’t, no.” Yang says. “Last time I saw her, she was in the kitchen with dad and Ruby baking pastries for tomorrow night.”

Just as these words leave her lips, Taiyang and Ruby make their way to the living room.

“We made hot cocoa!” Ruby announces with an impossibly wider smile.

Taiyang’s eyes grow wide. “Careful there, you don’t want to drop that!”

“Thank you, kiddo.” Ghira takes a mug when Ruby offers it to him. “It’s dreadfully cold this year.”

Taiyang and Ghira start chatting, and Ruby joyfully joins in. Kali looks at Yang, and she nods.

“I’ll go get her. Save two mugs for us!”

She finds Blake on the back door of the house, sitting on the small wooden stairs. Ghira was right, it’s terribly cold out here, and the snow is starting to pile out.

Yang approaches her.

“Here you are.” Yang says, glancing at Blake through the evening lights.

Blake raises her head, finds Yang’s eyes. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Yang leans on the doorframe. It’s awfully cold against her bare skin. Maybe she should be wearing a coat or a sweater instead of this old shirt. “I didn’t know cats liked the cold this much.”

Blake rolls her eyes visibly. “Stop that. You know I can’t stand your cat jokes.”

“Which makes them all the more funny.” Yang smiles, trying to keep it simple.

“Sure.” Blake shakes her head, a faint smile crossing her lips. “Why are you here anyway? You hate the cold.”

“Do I need a reason to want to be out here with you?” Yang says, and she regrets the words as soon as they come out. Too soon, too personal. She notices Blake curling into herself just a bit. There are too many things left unsaid. She tries again. “Actually, everyone’s in the living room. I think Ruby’s made hot cocoa. You don’t want to come with?”

“That sounds great. Maybe later.” Blake says, voice betraying her usual composed nature. “I think… I think I’m gonna stay here for a little while. You can go ahead.”

“If you’re staying,” Yang says, sitting on the stairs next to Blake. “Then, I think I’ll be staying, too.”

“Yang.” Blake starts, embers flickering underneath her heart. “You really don’t have to.”

“Why do you like it here so much, anyway?” Yang says, looking at the horizon. “You’ve seen this exact view at least a million times before.”

“Yeah, I know. Maybe that’s why.” Blake says. “It’s peaceful here. And it’s beautiful.”

Yang follows Blake’s eyes to the snow on the streets. The white trees, dark sky, the faint shape of the moon starting to show itself underneath the clouds.

When she looks back at Blake, she notices her slightly shaking. Maybe she really is cold.

“Everything alright?” Yang asks, voice low and soft.

Blake blinks against the sudden dampness of her eyes, she wasn’t expecting to hear Yang’s worried voice. It’s been so long. “Everything’s fine. I’m sorry, it’s stupid.”

Yang’s heart clenches. She isn’t sure how to speak to her just yet, like she’s standing on very thin ice and all she wants to do is run, even if it means she’ll break the ground beneath her feet and drown.

“I know things are weird between us.” Yang exhales, shutting down the part of her voice that conveys any depth to true emotion, scared of letting on too much of what’s really inside of her chest. It’s difficult enough as it is. “But I’m still me. You can talk to me, Blake.”

Blake looks like she’s thinking for a moment.

“I just…” she eventually says; glazy, conflicted, like there’s something wrapped around all her past mistakes in a barbed wire, chains around her demons. And then: “I missed being here. I missed being with _you_.” 

It slips out of her lips before she can stop it, and she doesn’t know how long she’s been feeling like this, doesn’t know she’s been homesick until she’s been standing so close to Yang.

 _I didn’t know if you’d care if I came back_ , a voice says inside of her head, and she bites the inside of her cheek.

But Yang only stares back, only smiles like her heart is breaking, or maybe her pieces are sloppily fitting back together.

Yang tugs on her fingers, pulls her close, and presses her lips to Blake’s forehead. 

“It’s okay now,” she promises, and Blake clings to that, clings to her like she’ll light up the stars rotating over her horizon, like Blake’s the ash from Yang’s fire, and she’s never felt warmer. “You’re home.”

* * *

Christmas celebrations prove to be quite busy.

On Christmas morning, Ruby is the first one up, since she’s endlessly excited for today, and Kali follows her shortly after. Together they boil the kettle for anyone who might want coffee, tea or hot chocolate when they wake up. Taiyang and Ghira come down later, and by the time Yang wakes up, Blake’s already left their bed and she finds her downstairs, sharing a blanket with Ruby on the couch, tea in her hand and gazing at the lights of the tree.

Everyone’s excited about this holiday. Kali and Taiyang are in charge of the Christmas feast; Yang and Blake’s job is decorating the house with red, yellow, purple, green and white twinkle lights and little bunches of mistletoes. Ruby is wearing a Santa hat with a jingle bell on it, and every time she walks past Ghira, he makes his best impersonation of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.

The nice thing about getting everyone together for Christmas, Yang decides late at night, is that the house doesn’t seem so lonely anymore. There’s always the twinkling of a light on, always the sound of idle chatter, always the reflection of the snow over the window, always a mug of something warm to drink, always someone sharing the warm space beneath the blankets on the couch.

Also, there’s the ‘Christmas gifts’ moment.

Yang got Ruby a remote-controlled robot, dad an apron that said ‘Do nothing to the cook’, Kali a gardening book, Ghira some mittens because he’s always cold in the winter, and she debated herself over Blake’s gift for forever. Ultimately, she decided to give her something not too personal and she found a copy of the book ‘ _The Boy Who Fell from the Sky_ ’ that Blake used to read to her when they were little, but a few years ago Blake mentioned she’d lost it when she moved out.

Sitting down and having Christmas dinner all together goes well. Everyone’s cheerful and it helps that the number of people to talk to has increased, so Yang doesn’t have to actually address Blake that much. She feels considerably better after talking to her the day before at the back of the house, even if they didn’t say much.

She thought she would have the chance to properly talk to her at night since they’re sharing the room -and the bed-, but as soon as Yang’s head hit the pillow, she was instantly out. She’d never been one to stay up late during sleepovers, Blake knows this better than anyone, and that’s why, without Yang knowing, she pulled the cover up with one hand, tucking them around her and Yang’s shoulder, before drifting off to sleep to Yang’s warmth the night before.

The day goes on without much fuss, and soon it’s nighttime again.

“You coming, Blake?” Yang asks.

Blake’s sitting on the small couch by the window in Yang’s room, a book loosely on her hand, forgotten. She’s distracted by the snow-coated scenery beyond the glass of the window; she’d forgotten how beautiful blizzards over the mountains are until she’s home, seeing the snow fall before her eyes.

“What?” Blake turns to look at Yang, distracted.

“I said if you’re coming to bed or not.” Yang says, hands over her hips. “I don’t have all night, Belladonna.”

“Oh, sure. You can go ahead first, I still have to finish this chapter.”

Yang nods.

“Suit yourself.” She says, and Blake loses sight of her body under the covers.

It doesn’t take long to hear her soft snoring, indicating she’s fast asleep. It’s almost endearing, Blake draws a small smile, watching her sleep from the couch by the window.

The blizzard rages on outside and, Blake remembers, it was during a night just like this when it happened.

When Yang’s mom, Raven, passed away.

Blake remembers everything like it was yesterday, even if five years had gone by since that night. They were seventeen.

It was 3:20 am, and Blake had just gone to sleep, having just finished reading ‘ _The Thief and the Butcher_ ’, a book that Yang had given her for her birthday barely a week ago, when she heard a pebble against her window.

That was their secret code for when they sneaked into each other's houses late at night. Yang would throw pebbles at Blake’s window, and she’d open the front door without a noise and let her in. Kali and Ghira, as well as Taiyang, probably knew of their schemes, but they never said anything about it.

So Blake hurriedly went to the front door and unlocked it, letting Yang in. There was something wrong, Blake could instantly tell. Maybe it was Yang’s shoulder hunching, her trembling hands grasping Blake’s shirt like a lifeline, or how she didn’t meet her eyes until the door to Blake’s room was closed behind them.

“She’s gone,” Yang breathed out before she could stop herself. She choked on an inhale, brought her hands to her lips, her eyes. “Blake, she’s _gone_.”

“Who’s gone?” Blake asked. “ _Baby_ , what happened?”

Maybe it was the familiar nickname that brought her to the edge, maybe it was Blake’s soothing hands all over her.

“I don’t know. My mom.” Yang tried, on the verge of hyperventilating, pressure emanating from the pitch of her stomach, her mind clouded and blurry. “It was an accident. The police - the police just called us.”

_A traffic accident. Raven wasn’t known for her sobriety._

Yang’s knees gave in and she was on the floor. She brought her knees to her chest, face buried between them, sobbing. It was still not quite real, she couldn’t picture the stubborn woman that her mother was really gone, but she could feel it, knew that she won’t ever be coming back, knew she’d be forever haunted by all the things she never got the chance to tell her, knew her eyes burned behind her eyelids from grief, anger, powerlessness, with the echo of her mother’s death.

Blake suddenly dropped to her knees in front of her. “Yang, _Yang_.” She heard Blake breathe out, fingers fluttering around her arms, her knees, her back, comforting. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay, baby, I promise.”

Yang found her eyes, lifted her head, tears trailing down her cheeks. Blake palmed her face, cupped her cheeks, seeing the reflection of her own eyes in Yang’s, torn, agonizing, heartbroken.

“I didn’t know what else to do.” Yang sobbed, voice cracking every word. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

“It’s okay.” Blake whispered, ever so soothingly, wiping away a tear under Yang’s left eye. “You can stay here with me tonight, you can - you can stay with me forever. I’m here with you, okay?” She brushed Yang’s hair behind her ear, breathed out against her. “I’m always going to be here.”

Blake guided her to her bed and Yang curled into herself, weeping. Blake cradled her up in her arms, whispering sweet nothings in her ear because there wasn’t any right thing to say. Blake held her in her arms and let her ache, leaving a trail of impossibly gentler kisses down the path of her tears. Yang let her soothe her, Blake’s lingering warmth ghosting over her skin the only comfort she could shelter in, burying her face in the crook of Blake’s neck.

The history of Yang’s mothers was a complicated one. Her birth mother, Raven, had left them shortly after Yang was born, so Blake didn’t have a chance to meet her then. Luckily, Taiyang found Summer Rose, _Super-Mom_ -Baker of cookies and slayer of giant imaginary monsters- and with her, Ruby came. Blake knew Summer because half of her childhood is tucked beneath Yang’s bedsheets and in every corner of her house. But one spring evening, Summer passed away. Blake remembers being fifteen, holding Yang’s hand through it all, watching their lives revolve around them and disclosure, changing their shape into a different world.

Raven came back shortly after, and whenever she was around, Blake felt an unpleasant chill down her back. She knew Yang felt it too because she would stand too close to her, her eyes would grow slightly piercing, her words slightly sharpened, caged like an animal kicking in the fight or flight instinct. Barely two years later, when Yang was starting to see through the cracks of Raven’s hardened mask, she was suddenly gone. And this time, she wouldn’t be coming back.

Blake remembers watching Yang’s tears fall. With her cascade, ocean wave blues came; and Blake held her through it all, through the raging blizzard behind her lilac eyes.

Blake shakes her head, eyes still glued to the snow falling on the outside of the window, book forgotten in her hand. Yang’s fallen deep into her slumber, now snoring significantly louder, a sound that brings nothing but comfort to Blake’s heart.

She sighs. There’s no way she can sleep now with all this troubling memories, so she decides to make herself something warm to drink, a tea perhaps.

She walks down the stairs, the house is completely dark and empty except for the twinkling of Christmas lights on the tree, still fully decorated. Her slow steps make the faintest noise against the cold wooden floor, careful to not wake anyone up.

Blake makes it to the kitchen and opens the fridge, looking for milk to make herself a soothing and warm tea. The light of the fridge immediately lights up the room, casting long shadows hanging from the furniture like ghosts.

This scene is familiar, somehow.

From the corner of her eye, she sees one of the shadows moving.

_What?_

It wasn’t her imagination. One shadow by the door frame moved just now. The hair on the back of her neck bristles, and she focuses her faunus eyes to discern the silhouette in the dark.

“Up this late.” A voice says. “Almost forgot you’re a night owl, Belladonna.”

“ _Yang!_ ” She breathes out, heart pumping loudly against her chest. “You almost gave me a heart attack! Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

Yang walks into the light, and Blake takes her all in - the way her shorts hang loosely on her hips, her twisted shirt covering only one shoulder, her bed hair and tired lilac eyes focused on hers.

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” Yang says, voice low and hoarse.

“It’s okay, I’m fine.”

“You didn’t come to bed.” Yang says, phrases it like a silent question. There’s an _I missed you_ that she doesn’t voice, an invitation.

“I didn’t, I just… couldn’t sleep, I suppose.” Blake shrugs, the shape of Raven’s eyes still on her mind, the heaviness of Yang’s tears that night.

Yang walks up to her, traces of sleep still evident in the haze behind her eyes, and wraps her arms around Blake’s back like she’s done a million times before, fits into her shape like a puzzle piece, like they were purposefully made to be together, to hold each other.

“You good?” Yang whispers against Blake’s ear, placing her head where her shoulder meets her neck, making her skin shiver underneath.

“Yeah.” Blake breathes out, relaxing against Yang’s warmth. Maybe this is what she’s been missing all along. “Yeah. I’m good now.”

“Good.” Yang nods, and they stay like this for a couple of seconds, just holding each other.

The refrigerator light casts long shadows around them, and maybe it’s Yang’s hands wrapped around her waist, but she remembers now why this scene is all too familiar.

“Yang.” She calls. “Do you remember the night before prom?”

They were seventeen, they’d been dating for a year and a half and prom was going to be their first official event as a couple. They were so excited that they couldn’t keep their hands off each other, Blake’s touch glued to Yang’s skin like it melted into her own skin, became part of her own body, two halves of the same experience.

“I remember you staying here that night.” Yang nods into her hair. “You were so nervous, it was hilarious.”

“You were nervous too, dummy. You even agreed to have a soothing cup of tea before bed with me because you couldn’t sleep.”

“And we came to the kitchen and everything was _so_ dark! It looked like a horror movie down here.”

“Then I opened the refrigerator to find some milk, and--”

“--and suddenly there was nothing but you in this room, under that faint light. It was all _you_.”

 _Are there still beautiful things?_ Yang remembers asking herself. _Once she’s gone, will there ever be something as beautiful as she used to be?_

Blake turns around, still wrapped by Yang’s arms. She finds her eyes, lilac like the sunsets of her hometown, shaped almost like a memory.

“And what did you ask me?” Blake gnaws on her bottom lip, rolls it between her teeth, never breaking eye contact with Yang.

“I asked you to dance with me.” Yang says, leaning slightly closer to her, breath catching on her throat. _One dance_ , she’d said, _as practice_.

“And what did I do?” Blake smiles, sharp fangs glowing white under the faint light, and Yang swallows.

“You put your arms around my neck,” she says, feeling Blake’s arms resting on her shoulders, fingers trailing their way to Yang’s hair. “And I held your waist,” she says, fingers curling against the soft fabric of Blake’s shirt, right above her hip bones. “And we just danced. And danced, and danced until we weren’t nervous anymore, until the world stopped spinning, and it was just _us_.”

_In the middle of the night, dancing around the kitchen in the refrigerator light._

“Do you remember, Yang…?” Blake breathes out, her cheek pressed to Yang’s cheek, but she can’t finish the question, because she keeps it all tucked in underneath her skin, careful not to say too much, too soon, too painful.

_Do you remember how it felt? How we used to feel?_

“Yes, I do. I remember everything.” Yang sighs, her smile is sad and the moon is reflected on her lilac irises, breathing out the flames that keep Blake’s body warm in this December. “Sometimes, I think I remember it all too well.”

* * *

“I have something to show you.” Yang says the following morning.

“What is it?” Blake asks.

“I can’t tell you, or it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

“You got something for me? I thought we’d already given out our Christmas presents.”

“It’s more like something I want you to see. But that’s all the hints you’ll get from me.” Yang smiles. “You have to come and see it for yourself.”

“Alright.”

Blake follows her wordlessly through the house and gets in the car next to her, the roads white and empty as they drive out of town, through the forest’s trails that are on the outskirts of town, pathway spilling into a wide opening in the middle of a clearing of trees; there’s a frozen lake before them and Yang stops the car, brings out blankets to the back of the truck and makes a place where they can nestle, a safe haven within this forest.

It starts snowing.

“Did you take me out on a date without me knowing, Xiao Long?” Blake raises an eyebrow, but there’s no bite to it.

“And what if I did?” _Two can play this game_ , Yang thinks.

“You could’ve simply asked.” Blake says.

“And if you said no?”

“I could never say no to you.” Blake says, but she regrets the words as soon as they come because she’s broken one too many promises now.

“Yeah…” Yang scratches the back of her head. “Anyway, I found this place like, half a year ago. I come here sometimes to, you know, think and stuff.”

“Oh, you do that now?” Blake teases.

“Shut up.” Yang smiles. “Last week the lake froze, though the ice is too thin to skate on it, but I still thought you’d like to see this place.”

“I do.” Blake says. “It’s beautiful here, thank you. But it’s starting to snow.”

“Don’t worry, I came fully prepared.” Yang reassures, taking some blankets to improvise a kind of ceiling at the back of the truck.

She holds her hand out to Blake, helping her up, and soon they’re both nestled together under the blankets, protected from the tiny snowflakes that are falling around them, watching the white and blue scenery of the lake and the woods before them.

They stay in silence for a while, taking in the view around them.

Blake looks up at Yang, her pink nose and cheeks flushed from the cold, how her blonde hair falls perfectly into place, cascading molten gold.

Yang’s been nothing but patience ever since Blake’s come back home. She gives her space and gives her the silence that only comes when two people understand each other without words.

Maybe they got lost in translation before, back when they lost the meaning of their shared emotions resonating in their bones, too glued to their skins to shake it like a winter coat; but right here and now, tucked under the blankets and nuzzled to Yang’s side, Blake doesn’t hurt, doesn’t ache. Like nothing bad can happen, not anymore.

Eventually, Yang breaks the silence between them.

“Hey, Blake.” She says, the words spilling out of her with unease. “Do you ever stop and… think about me?”

“What do you mean?”

“When you’re away. Do you still think of me?” Yang fidgets, and the words keep coming. “Cause I’ve been thinking, and the only place I see you now is the tiny screen of my phone. And I know I haven’t replied to any of your texts, but I - Don't get me wrong, please. I have nothing but well-wishes for you, but--”

The words die on her throat when Blake grabs her hand under the blankets, holds it tightly in the space between them.

“Yang. You’re _always_ on my mind. Here, there, wherever I am.” She says, and she’s never said anything this true before. “You’re all I ever think about.”

“Blake--” Yang starts, but stops entirely.

Blake’s hand travels to the curve of Yang’s jaw, and their lips find each other naturally, as if something they could do blindfolded, Yang’s body a map that Blake knows like the back of her hand.

It’s familiar and easy, they’ve found each other one too many times now, there’s no trace of hesitancy, no secrets to Yang’s skin that Blake can’t outline. Her mouth is the warmest place Blake’s ever been in, the world around them cold, fresh from the snow that’s still falling around them.

It’s December and Blake’s heart lingers in the tip of their kiss, stumbles on the verge of completely falling. There’s a memory there, a time where she used to let Yang explore every centimetre of her skin, the stars in her eyes the last thing Blake saw before the bone crash fall of the inevitable goodbye.

But _this_ \- this is different. It’s just a kiss, the brush of their lips, the warmth that she knows so well and that she’s been desperately wanting to return to.

“You don’t have to leave again, you know.” Yang breathes out, foreheads pressed together and lips quivering, already missing Blake’s warmth on them. “You could stay here. Stay with me. _Please_.”

 _It's never too late to come back to my side,_ Yang doesn’t voice this, doesn’t voice how much her heart aches to know that she’s got her right between her arms, but that she’ll eventually go again, leaving an empty space that Yang hasn’t learned how to heal, she doesn’t think it will ever fully heal _. The stars in your eyes shine brighter here._

“Yang. Don’t do this to me, please.” Blake pleads.

“You could stay at my place. And we could just ride around. I’d show you every beautiful thing you haven’t seen yet. Just--”

“Yang,” Blake whispers, let’s the implication roll out her tongue. Her heart pounds loudly against her chest, like it’s trying to tell her something that she already knows, that she really wants to stay right where she is now, in her embrace. But she can’t. She can’t. “ _Yang._ ”

“I know, I know.” Yang exhales, pressing the palms of her hands against her eyes, keeping the tears in. She won’t cry. Not over the same old thing. “I’m sorry. But I… I want you, Blake.”

“I want you too.” Blake whispers, a thread of voice so thin that for a moment she fears it will break. “We can figure something out. We can be together--”

“Yeah, only for the weekend.” Yang scoffs.

Blake opens her eyes slightly wider, and she’s silent for a second longer, eyes flickering in color, mood wavering with her thoughts.

“Maybe. We could make it work.”

“What? What are you even saying?” Yang inquires, not believing Blake’s words.

“I’ll be yours. You can call me _‘babe’_ for the weekend.” Blake says, finding Yang’s gaze, and she loses herself in her eyes, wonders how much of her belongs to Yang, like she could draw closer to her and they’d blur into nothing - into everything. “If it’s okay with you, it’s okay with me.”

“This is so stupid,” Yang interrupts, a note wavering under her voice that doesn’t match the steadiness of her tone. “There’s no way that I--”

“Yang, _please_. It’s all we have.” Blake whispers, fingers carefully lacing through Yang’s. She raises her other hand and gently sweeps Yang’s bangs away from her forehead. Vaguely, Yang realizes her eyes are clouded with tears. “It’s all we can be for now.”

“But it’s not enough, Blake. I want - I want everything from you.” Yang’s breath catches in her chest. She forces it all out, words cutting at her throat. “I want to be with you. To _really_ be with you, I - I want _you_ , Blake.”

“And you have me. I’m yours.” Blake pleads, presses her forehead against Yang’s and prepares to pour forever. “ _I’m yours, Yang._ ”

Yang reaches out, grasps Blake’s coat in her hands, and crashes their mouths together desperately, breathless and numb, too overwhelmed with the thumping of her heart in her wrists, in her neck, in her ears, in the vault of her chest.

She thinks of red, of the way she saw Blake at the airport and her body froze, she almost ran red because she was staring at her - couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, her heart hammering against her ribcage with a tinge of desperation, hold her, keep her, don’t let her go.

“Okay.” Yang sayas against her mouth, exhales heavily. “ _Okay_.”

Blake finds her lips again in her own kind of agreement, and Yang kisses her slowly, the brush of their lips painful and exhilarating. _I’ll take my time, go slow_ , Yang thinks, finding Blake’s tongue and her warmth reaching every fibre of Yang’s body, every hair and every nerve, pressure behind her ribs and lightness in her head. _I’ll take my time, cause you took everything from me._

They stay like that for what feels like hours, tangled together under the blankets on the back of Yang’s truck, the snow falling heavily around them, sheltering them from the outside world. Time flies, messy as the mud on Yang’s truck tires, giving them blues and then purple-pink skies, and Blake finds herself melting to Yang’s touch.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” Blake exhales, her own fingers spread against Yang’s back, under the wool of her sweater. 

It’s hard to fake she doesn’t want her when she’s pressing so close to her, pretend she doesn’t find a home in her kiss, Yang’s lips curving into a crooked smile against her, and Blake understands that she can’t ever escape the consequences.

* * *

The new year can’t be completely celebrated without a party. Luckily, Yang and Blake have been invited to Pyrrha’s New Year’s party.

It was also a tradition, sort of. Nothing too fancy, just a couple of old friends in Pyrrha’s big house. Everyone who was invited knew each other, they’d all gone to the same high school, spent the same awkward years of figuring themselves out together, knew every secret and embarrassing school story about everyone. 

Some years ago, Blake would’ve referred to them as their group of friends, though time and the long distance she’d set between them had made it more complicated to keep that bond with them.

Still, it was always pleasant to gather once a year for Pyrrha’s New Year’s party.

Pyrrha’s living room is wide, and it feels even wider when it’s 11 pm and there’s no one else besides them in the house. There are at least half a dozen loudspeakers throughout the house, first and second floor, and they’re playing the kind of music you can’t help but want to dance to, Blake thinks, especially having Yang so close to her the entire night.

She doesn’t miss the way their hands accidentally brush, how her lilac eyes linger on Blake’s for a second longer than intended - there’s a silent battle there, who’s gonna fall first, who’s gonna give in and finally breach the distance, collide their bodies together.

They kissed when they were on Yang’s truck, whispering hurried promises of being, being more than what they are but less than what they once were - being _something_.

There haven’t been more kisses after that, at least not that they both were aware of.

That night, they snuggled up together in bed, sharing caresses under the covers, but nothing more. Blake was the first one to fall asleep, much to Yang’s surprise, and she brushed her bangs, leaving a soft kiss on her forehead. The following morning, before Blake went down for some much-needed coffee, she stayed back a couple more seconds than necessary, watching Yang sleep, the peace that it blossomed in her chest, the silent kiss she softly pressed against her before closing the bedroom’s door.

They were so helplessly intertwined, both so stubborn to give in, to commit to their temporary promise of love.

But that would change tonight, Blake could feel it in her bones.

Blake missed parties, she doesn’t have many of those back in LA; dancing, the running of the alcohol sitting in her veins, the pounding beats of the loud music in her skull. Yang shifts next to her, movements flowing, like the shimmering lights of the improvised dance floor were made just for her; she has Blake’s attention and she knows it, wants it all over her, the sweat of her body under the colored lights.

Blake wants her, wants nothing more than to walk up to her and kiss her and let everybody know that she’s hers, hers, _hers_ only. Like she used to be, like she always should’ve been. Like Blake never left. She wants her, and she wants to not think about anything else anymore, not LA or her job and all the miles between her and her hometown, her home in Yang’s arms.

Pyrrha’s around the room, making sure everyone’s having fun safely, keeping an eye out especially for Nora - they’ve cracked open the hard liquor and beer, playing music over the stereo system. Jaune and Ren are talking, Nora’s insisting on Ren coming to the dance floor with her, and the boy obliges. Pyrrha has eyes for Jaune and Jaune only. Blake wonders if they still haven’t figured out what everybody knew back in high school between them two. 

She considers taking a few pictures, posting them online for her LA friends to see she’s still alive, she’s having fun. She knows Weiss Schnee wouldn’t approve of her partying like this, at least not openly, but Sun and Neptune would love coming to one of these parties. Blake wonders if she should invite them next time she comes back home. Maybe even Ilia, though maybe the alcohol and the unburied feelings she still has for Blake wouldn’t make it such a great idea.

There’s only one person that Blake wants to be with tonight, wants to feel her skin pressed close to hers, her heart held safely in her hands, knowing she wouldn’t ever let it drop. Blake thinks of fate, and the way it always leads her to her hometown - to her.

The purpose of a New Year’s party, Blake remembers an hour later, is to welcome the new year with your friends and loved ones.

Pyrrha quiets the music, puts the national television’s program on and the countdown starts.

_10…! 9…! 8…!_

Nora holds Ren’s hand, preparing for what’s to come, excitedly moving up and down, the electric blue of her eyes glowing with anticipation.

_7…! 6…! 5…! 4…!_

Pyrrha takes a deep breath, steels herself, and grabs Jaune’s hand. He looks up at her, eyes slightly wider, but Pyrrha’s gaze is bright and honest, affection pouring out of her in an open act of love.

_3…! 2..! 1…!_

Blake feels the brush of Yang’s fingers at the back of her hand. She interlaces their hands together with no hesitancy, holds her hand tightly in the space between them, the warmth she brings, as they all hold their breaths.

“Happy New Year!”

They all shout in unison, and for a moment, there’s nothing but excitement and joy bubbling in Blake’s chest. They’re all cheering, loud noises coming from other houses in the neighborhood as well - everyone’s celebrating the coming of the new year with them.

Blake turns her head, and she immediately finds Yang’s eyes, polarized by them. The radiant smile that blooms in her lips reminds Blake of a beautiful flower. 

Blake takes in the shine of her lilac eyes in the dim light of the room as she closes the small space that separated them, the way her heartbeat pounds like it’s exhilarated for allowing itself to be so openly affectionate, vulnerable like it hasn’t been in what feels like forever. 

Yang’s hand cupping her cheeks is all too achingly familiar, too painfully soft. She’s focused on having to let go of her for so long that the ghost of the love she feels for her is what finally sinks its teeth into her skin, the thought of a future where Yang can hold her and soothe her and kiss her like she is the only thing in the world worth touching filling every crack inside her chest as she closes the distance between them, pressing her lips to Yang’s in a silent confession.

“Happy new year, Belladonna.” Yang whispers.

“Happy new year, Yang.”

The music starts again and the party resumes like it never stopped, but something has shifted between them.

It doesn’t take long for Yang to give up, to give in, and she’s rushing up the stairs of Pyrrha’s house, tugging at Blake’s fingers, dragging her closely behind.

They don’t stop until the door to one of the guest rooms’ is carefully closed behind them.

Blake’s back is pressed against the door, Yang’s right leg slipped between Blake’s, mouth finding all of her weak spots on her neck.

“Wait-- Yang, _wait_.” Blake breathes out, voice cracking at the edges. “I need to know we’re on the same page here.”

“Yeah.” Yang replies, eyes closed, biting slightly the sensitive skin over Blake’s collarbone. She feels her shiver underneath.

“Yang, _please_.” She holds Yang’s face between her hands, gently forcing her to look up at her. Yang’s eyes are full, a flashing mess of longing and need. “I need to hear you say it.”

“You’re leaving, I know that much.” Yang says, runs the pad of her thumb across Blake’s bottom lip, biting her own without realizing it. “But you’re mine now. You’re mine for the weekend.”

Blake nods, a thousand words that won’t come out tugging at the strings of her heart. _I’m sorry_ , she wants to say, _I’m sorry -_ but Yang’s touch on hers is too intoxicating, too exhilarating to feel anything other than Yang’s presence blissfully pressed against her. She’s so beautiful that it haunts her.

Blake wraps her arms around Yang’s waist, presses her lips against her fierce and desperately; her grip eases when Yang’s own hands find her cheeks instead, palms spread cupping Blake’s cheeks, her skin burning beneath Yang’s lips, leaving a trail of kisses on her neck, her jawline, her mouth. Blake holds her as close as she possibly can, afraid of the world she’ll find when she opens her eyes again, when Yang’s body isn’t pressed impossibly closer to her own.

Yang pulls away, but she doesn’t step back, doesn’t move away an inch. She stays right there instead, brushing Blake’s cheekbone with her thumb, resting her forehead against Blake’s.

“I love you.” Yang exhales unsteadily, and Blake can almost feel her heart trembling on her own cold hands, holding it tightly. “I never stopped loving you. Not once, not even for one second since you left.”

“Yang--”

“Blake, _please_ .” Yang whispers, her lilac eyes tugging at the edges of Blake’s soul and reminding her - She once laid bare her heart to you. It was glass, perfectly framed in the shape of your hands. And you dropped it. “I’ve been in love with you my entire life, ever since I first met you. No - even before that. For what feels like _forever_.”

For a moment, Blake’s out of breath.

She grits her teeth, jaw tight and trembling underneath her skin, hearing the words in her voice. Blake can barely believe she’s heard it right.

_I love you._

“ _Don’t_.” Blake shakes harder in Yang’s embrace. 

She didn’t realize it, or maybe she did but she was too infatuated to stop and think about consequences, that she was making this stupid fool of a woman whom she adores more than her own life fall in love with her all over again; every little action, every brush of their hands, every lingering touch, every kiss aching with the need to be something again, to be whole, was just making it all worse because Yang was falling for her all over again, and she was allowing it, despite knowing how it’d end. 

Even if she doesn’t blame Yang, she blames herself. Her ribs feel like they’ve split open, burning against Yang’s touch still on her and Blake has to forcefully stop herself from choking on her breath.

How could she let this happen, how could she let Yang’s heart ache all over again.

“Yang, please, _don’t_ \- don’t do this to me.”

“It’s how you make me feel.” Yang admits, her voice barely hanging on, heart throbbing with the weight of everything she lost and found again. “This doesn’t change anything, I just - I _needed_ you to know how I feel. How I’ve always felt towards you.”

Blake keeps her gaze on her, all over her, doing the same dance with her eyes they did back at the party: the pink of her mouth, the lilac of her irises bathing over her skin; chuckles on a wet breath. “Are you trying to make it impossible for me to leave you, Xiao Long?”

Yang shakes her head, eyes downcast, lazy smile hanging from her lips.

“I wouldn’t want to keep you from the rest of your life.” _But you’re my life_ , Blake’s heart longs to tell her, but it’d cross a line she wouldn’t be able to undo. Yang’s breath tingles against the soft skin on her cheekbones, too close not to notice the sad tinge hanging from every word. “I know you have to go, but please - stay with me tonight. Just for tonight.”

Blake wraps herself around her, one hand finding the back of Yang’s head, the other pulling Yang against her like waves crashing against the cliffside.

There’s a story behind how Yang’s body falls perfectly into hers, there are no sharp edges or aching memories resting behind their eyes, just Yang’s cheek pressed against her own, Yang’s breath all over her, legs intertwined together. _For you_ , Blake thinks, _for you I would ruin myself a million little times_.

“Always. I’m yours.” Blake mouths against Yang. _You’re the air I breathe, the ground under my feet, and I’ve never felt so alive._ “I’ve always been. No matter who I am, no matter where. I’ll always be yours.”

Yang draws her back in, finds her lips and kisses her again and again; the world outside is cold and covered in white snow, but in here Blake’s warmth sticks to her skin like a promise. 

There’s no other sound in the world right now other than Blake’s husky breaths, Yang’s beating pulse behind her ears, like there’s no one else in the universe right now besides them; the two of them alone, bodies pressed so close Yang swears she’s feeling Blake’s heart beating in her own chest, their souls merging into one single being, one single rush of burning and infinite love.

Blake tugs on Yang’s fingers as she guides her through the room, pushes her against the bed, and straddles her waist, hovering over her almost like a memory. Yang’s eyes climb up Blake’s body, mesmerized by her beauty, finds golden irises staring back, flaming with need.

Yang lets it all spill out of her that night, lets her body show her the feelings she can’t put into words, her hands brushing away all of Blake’s insecurities and doubts, her skin pressed so close to Yang’s like it’s the only place she remembers how to breathe, how to be. 

Blake lets Yang’s name roll out of her mouth time and time again, voice raw and bruised. There’s a memory there, the countless nights she’s spent tangled in Yang’s bedsheets, arms around her back and her palm spread wide against Yang’s heart.

“I’ve thought of you,” Blake murmurs to her, the heat of Yang’s body washing over her skin, closer than home. “Ever since I left, I’ve thought of you every single day, of coming back home to you - of _staying_.”

“Then, why didn’t you?” Yang asks, and Blake feels her lips against her shoulder.

“I think I’m not ready yet,” Blake whispers. “There’s so much world out there I want to see. But when I leave, I feel like a part of me is gone. It’s gone, but not lost. Like I can always return and feel it fall back in place again. But every time I come back, it just… doesn’t instantly happen like I think it will.”

“So, what then?” Yang says, her fingers trailing the path of Blake’s arm, her wrist, her fingers. And back up, drawing shapes on her skin.

“And then I see you. And it all makes sense again. It’s you, Yang. It’s - It’s always been you.” Blake blinks against the dampness of her eyes. “I think I’m in _love_ with you, Yang Xiao Long _._ ”

“Blake--” Yang props herself on her elbow, her hair falling messily over her shoulders like a waterfall.

“Kiss me.” Blake exhales, trembling, desperately. “I’ve missed you. _Please_ , I’ve - I’ve missed you so much.”

Yang pushes her back gently against the bed, traces her silhouette with her eyes. Her mouth curls at the corner and she thinks of fate. 

Blake holds onto her, her hands cupping Yang’s face, lilac irises shimmering beautiful, like she’s holding the entire ocean on the palms of her hands. She looks up at her, Yang hovering over her body almost like a memory, knees on either side of Blake’s hips. 

When she leans down, Blake closes the distance between them and catches her mouth, tongue playing teasingly with Yang’s bottom lip as her hands travel up her back, giving Yang pleasant chills where her skin meets Blake’s fingers, until she brings her hands to Yang’s head, fingers tangling in blonde hair as they scratch against her scalp.

Yang exhales, breathes in Blake’s scent and she feels her everywhere, washing over her like a warm blanket sheltering her from the cold winter. She guides Blake’s mouth back to hers, tongue sweeping over her bottom lip, teeth digging into it after.

Blake thinks of roots, thinks of how she’s so inevitably intertwined with every part of Yang’s life, every inch of her skin, of how Yang’s clutching her like she’s afraid Blake will disappear if she ever let go. 

As she lets a gentle moan escape her lips, Blake understands. She can try to leave, run away to the ends of the world, but she would still miss Yang in her bones.

She knows, hands spread wide against Yang’s bare chest, the heart that beats underneath her skin, that she belongs to her. She will always go back to Yang.

* * *

It must be still early when Blake wakes up on a bed that isn’t hers.

There’s no sound coming from the rest of the house, from outside the window, like there isn’t a single person left in the world and everything has grown silent.

She’s still in Pyrrha’s house, it’s January 1st and Yang’s sound asleep beside her. Blake thinks of letting her sleep in half the day, maybe just for old times’ sake. 

She hears the snow whistling on outside the window, but Blake swears she’s never felt warmer; limbs tangled with Yang’s underneath the bed sheets, snuggled together, she swears she could make it through a blizzard with Yang’s skin pressed so close to hers. Time’s still running against them, messy as the mud on Yang’s truck tires, but Blake’s not hurting - not anymore.

Blake looks down, taking in Yang’s sleeping form.

She’s asleep next to her, face down and her nose buried in Blake’s neck, she can feel Yang’s mouth curving against her shoulder in her sleep.

Blake leans down, gently presses her lips to the crown of Yang’s head, fingers stroking her scalp. She feels Yang’s body sinking deeper into the slumber in Blake’s arms, her even breathing rolling out of her slightly opened mouth like waves. 

Blake feels her body relaxing too, her muscles growing tensionless as she watches Yang’s eyes flutter to the sun dripping through the curtains like she’s a magical creature, like she’s the sun and Blake’s been lost in the shadows for what feels like forever, like she lights up her own heart, her own soul.

The sun draws shapes and silhouettes across Yang’s back, reflecting the gold of her hair, and Blake’s mesmerized by the beauty of it all, wishes she could write her own name on the smooth skin of Yang’s back with traces of daylight.

She finds her face, almost buried in the crook of her neck, and trails the shape of her nose with her fingertip, ever so lightly, like she’s done one too many times now; the contour of her cheekbone, jawline, draws a line down the corner of her lips, the softness of the skin that meets her underneath her touch. 

Blake lets herself stare, indulges in the way it aches. How her heart feels as if this is the place she really belongs to, the one good thing she really owns, a home that’s carved in the shape of her soul, her name written all over the scars of Yang’s bones. Her chest feels heavy, telling her that perhaps it’s time to stop running away and breaking her own heart, leaving behind the warmest bed she’s ever known.

“I hope you can forgive me.” Blake whispers, fingers lost in golden hair, scratching slightly her scalp. She leans down, softly pressing her forehead to the back of Yang’s head, nose buried in her hair. “I’m _such_ an idiot.”

 _I don’t deserve a love as genuine as yours_ , Blake thinks, _not if I’m gonna keep leaving far away, breaking my own heart and leaving you to bleed._

She stays like that for a while, breathing in Yang’s scent, taking in every second of Yang beside her, so blissfully close.

When Yang stirs, Blake doesn’t move at all. She watches Yang’s eyelashes flutter, eyes flicking quickly between the snow outside the window and Blake’s face, settling her lilac irises on the golden of Blake’s, pupils expanding, and Blake’s mouth draws a smile.

“Morning.” She mumbles against her skin, lips stretching lazily, and Blake’s suddenly struck with how much she’s missed her smile within these hours.

Blake leans down, closes the distance between them, leaving a single kiss on Yang’s lips, barely even a brush, soft as the silent snowfall that goes on outside their window. “Good morning.”

Yang returns the kiss, keeps the emotion tucked away, waking up to Blake being the first thing she sees proving to be too much to handle for her heart - so she focuses on projecting it all through her touch, convey her overwhelming feelings as the tips of her fingers ghost over Blake’s skin, her bones shivering underneath.

Yang’s the only person who’s ever touched Blake with this gentleness, with this _love_. Blake thinks of scars, of red and the shadow of a fear that will always be at the back of her head - but not here, not when Yang’s lips are on her ever so carefully, lips parted and tongues brushing like it’s the only place she remembers how to live.

Blake doesn’t pull away and Yang doesn’t stop the kiss either, but it ends when she feels her own smile growing against Yang’s lips, like a child who’s learning how to love again, how to see beauty in the smallest things; like the sun reflecting sideways on Yang’s face just right, highlighting the gold of her hair, softly falling into place like dominos.

Blake lets herself admire her, mesmerized by her beauty, and traces all her angles and edges with her eyes, reaching up and kissing the spot right where her clavicle meets her shoulder - an _epiphany_ , just one single glimpse of relief that makes sense of all the time they’ve spent apart.

* * *

Ruby’s high school - once Blake and Yang’s high school, too - is throwing a winter ball. Winter _plus_ New Year’s ball, Ruby keeps reminding them. Yang and Blake are just excited they get to go to another party before Blake has to leave the following morning.

That morning, Yang wakes up early and, by the time Blake comes down to the living room, Yang’s expecting her with flowers in her hands, purple lilies and yellow daffodils; lillies for passion, daffodils for new beginnings - a silent promise, a love for her that will bloom time and time again.

Blake’s eyes settle on Yang’s, gentle and full. “Are you asking me to go to prom with you, Xiao Long?”

“You said yes the first time.” She says, smile blossoming on her lips, genuine and honest. “I was hoping you’d say yes again.”

“Yes.” Blake breathes out, affection spilling out of her every word as she breaches the distance and melts herself in Yang’s arms, holding her tightly. “A million times over.”

Ruby stares at the scene, arms crossed over her chest. “This isn’t prom, though.”

“Let them have this, kid.” Taiyang laughs next to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Let them have this.”

“So you’re all coming?” Ruby tilts her head, not sure if she’s comfortable with the idea of all her family attending the school’s event.

“Not all, some of us are way too old for that.” Tai shakes his head. “I’ll be just dropping you three off, and then Ghira, Kali and I are gonna grab some coffee.”

“Ugh. Boring adult stuff.”

“Exactly.” Ghira laughs, his deep voice rumbling low. “So you better have a good time, balance the fun in this house.”

“I’m not sure about _fun_ if I’m gonna be third wheeling for them the whole night!” Ruby pouts.

Yang, still holding Blake close to her, turns to Ruby with a half-smile. “Don’t worry about us, we’ll be out of your hair as soon as we get there.”

“I’ll make sure Yang doesn’t do anything too embarrassing.” Blake nods, finding Ruby’s silver eyes. “You can trust me on this one.”

Ruby nods, too. At least she knows she can believe Blake’s words. “Please, Blake! My social status rests on your hands!”

“That reminds me,” Kali says, watching the scene with affection. “Do you happen to have a date for the ball, Ruby?”

Ruby blushes, crimson colors blooming under the soft skin of her cheeks.

“I - Well, uh… I did invite Penny to come with me--”

Yang’s eyes grow impossibly wider. “Oh my god, this is going to be Rubes’ first date! My baby sis is growing up!”

She reaches out and wraps Ruby’s slender figure in a crushing bear hug. Ruby tries without success to release herself from Yang’s embrace.

“Get off me, Yang!”

They all laugh at the scene, and soon everybody’s helping out with the preparations.

Ruby comes down with a short, red, sleeveless dress with a thick black sash around the waist and black trim along the bottom; the dress is split vertically to the sash and laced with black lacing, and everyone tells her just how beautiful she looks, much to Ruby’s embarrassment.

Blake hasn’t brought any fancy dresses, so she’s wearing her usual clothes: a white shirt covered by a black coat, tight jeans and a pair of black boots; but when Yang sees her down the stairs, elegant and beautiful, black hair dripping over her shoulders and down her back, she remembers why she’s been in love with her since she saw her for the first time when they were kids, and she whispers on her ear, _don’t worry, you’re still the most beautiful girl in the world_.

The party decorations are all they would’ve expected given it’s in the gym of a high school in a small town. There are balloons, flashing colored lights, winter-themed patterns and a fair number of refreshment tables.

As promised, as soon as they make it there -and Yang makes sure to take at least a million pictures of Ruby with Penny, Ruby’s childhood friend-, Yang grabs Blake’s hand and she guides her out of the gym.

“Did you ask me to come to show me off,” Blake asks her once they’re at the backyard of the school, near the football stadium, hands interlaced like all their edges fit perfectly together. “Or maybe is this a real date?”

“A little bit of both.” Yang replies, the air forming tiny white clouds when it leaves her lips. “What difference would it make?”

“If it’s a date, I might consider giving you a kiss before the night ends.” Blake says, voice low and teasing.

“Only one kiss?”

Yang’s eyes shimmer lilac under the moonlight, and Blake feels like she’s taking in the entire ocean when she holds her gaze.

“Only one kiss.”

“Nope, that won’t do at all.” Yang shakes her head, blonde hair falling down her back gracefully, like all of her was built to be admired. “I want much more than just one kiss from you.”

“You do?” Blake’s smile is easy on her lips, excitement building up beneath her skin. “And what are you gonna do about it?”

“I’ll simply take what’s mine.” Yang says, shifting slightly closer to her. “And I’ll steal a hundred kisses from you.”

Blake rolls her eyes. “That’s so romantic.”

“Thank you, I especially picked this spot under the old and rusty school bleachers for peak romanticism.”

“You’re so silly.” She chuckles. “But I actually like it here, believe it or not.”

Yang tilts her head, finds Blake’s eyes and questions, “Hm? And why’s that?”

“I don’t know if you remember, but… we were here on our last prom, too. We were hiding--”

“Ah, I remember!” Yang’s eyes grow wide with realization, a silly smile already hanging from her lips. “We were hiding from your mom, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Blake laughs, hiding her face behind her hand. “We kept skipping the prom just to piss off my mom.”

“She was following us around with her camera! She wanted to capture all of your precious high school moments,” Yang teases.

“Even dad or your father couldn’t make her stop following us, so we hid here under the bleachers.”

“I remember now.” Yang nods, chuckles quietly, so quietly that Blake almost doesn’t catch it. “I wasn’t even cold, but you kept saying how _cold_ you were to get me to give you my jacket.”

Blake blushes, her cheeks softly blooming with sprinkled pink colors. “It _was_ cold and that’s - that’s not how it went down.”

“Don’t worry, all of my clothes look better on you anyway.” Yang winks, and Blake’s blush deepens. After all these years, Blake still feels butterflies standing this close to Yang.

“Shut up, you flirt.”

Yang shifts closer to Blake, and Blake takes the opportunity to find Yang’s mouth and kiss her. Yang settles her hand on Blake’s hip, Blake’s hand flat against Yang’s chest. She can feel the slow rise and fall of her chest, the warmth underneath her palm, the steady thump of Yang’s heartbeat.

 _Do you ever think about those times? How it felt kissing under the moonlight?_ Yang thinks, capturing Blake’s lips again, feeling her chest shrink with anticipation, with the oxygen burning on her lungs. _Are you still the same soul I met under the bleachers that night?_

Blake is the first one to break the kiss, breathing heavily in the small space between them.

“Hey, Yang… I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh, you do that now?” Yang’s tease rolls off her tongue with ease.

“Don’t steal my jokes.” Blake smiles. She holds each side of Yang’s face delicately on her hands, finds her lilac eyes tender and honest already on her. “I’m serious.”

“Okay, okay.” Yang nods, shelters in Blake’s touch before she lets go, standing eye to eye to her. “I’m listening.”

“I… I’ve been giving it some thought. To all of it, to - to _us_.” Blake says, stumbles over her words like they are cluttering her throat, unsure of which ones should come first to make sense of it all. “And I think… Well, maybe - maybe this is stupid, but if there’s a chance, then I think we could--”

Yang finds her hands, caresses her fingers with the pad of her thumb, prompts her to try again. “Just, say what’s on your mind, Blake.”

Yang watches her breath in.

“ _Come with me_ .” Blake implores softly, finally, as if the thought of having to part ways with Yang again was sinking its claws too deep into her bones. “I have to go back, but I don’t have to do it alone. If you want, then _maybe…_ I think you’d really like it there. You should come live with me, and--”

 _And we can be everything we’ve ever dreamed of,_ she doesn’t voice, _then you won't have to cry and I won’t have to run anymore._

“Blake.” Yang interrupts her gently, and Blake’s chains of thoughts break off, wavering. Yang thinks of Blake and her warmth, her touch, her love, how she’s carefully drawn stars around all of Yang’s scars and she’s healed her every crack.

But when she thinks of home, Ruby’s face is the first thing that she sees. Ruby, their father, the absence of Summer, and the shadow that Raven left behind - there’s a memory there, there’s a hole that Yang can't leave unguarded, a bruise that’s close to healing but that’s just not there yet. She thinks of every wonderful thing she could do once she gets out of this town, of all the familiar places she’d be leaving behind.

Deep down her heart, beneath the hopes and the wonderlust, there’s an answer. 

“I can’t leave, Blake. I have people here that still need me. It’s not that I don’t want to go, get out there and build a brand new life with you. I want that, I _really_ do. But I can’t. Not now.”

“We can figure something out. They’ll be okay if you do this, and you could… you could come with me.” Blake breathes out, as if she thought she couldn’t bear leaving her behind, Yang watching her packing her things and running away from her all over again. “Come with me. _Please_.”

“I’m sorry.” Yang says quietly, softly pressing her forehead against Blake’s, her chest already bubbling with regret. “But I’ll be here when you come back. I always am.”

Blake’s hands find Yang’s face, she cups her cheeks like she’s holding the most precious thing in the world; and her voice sounds sad when she looks at her, lilac irises settling on her eyes, and says: “I don’t belong here and, my love, neither do you.”

“I know.” Yang says, draws a half-smile, hopes that it is enough. “I know I should say yes. _Hell_ , you asking me to come with you is everything I’ve ever wanted for the last four years. I know I should be selfish for once, think about what _I_ want.” Yang’s trembling in Blake’s embrace, cracking against the way she’s now the one letting go of the thing she loves the most in the entire world, the golden of Blake’s eyes on her aching and devastated. “But now that it’s come to this, I…. I can’t leave them all behind. Maybe in a couple of years, but not now. I’m sorry.”

Maybe their love got lost in translation, maybe Yang’s been asking for too much, wishing for Blake to stay by her side, where she should always have been. She can’t ask her to stay, she knows that. And she’s not ready to leave yet, so there’s nothing else she can do besides hold her now, in the numbered hours that they have; and try one more time to not resent Blake for following her dreams, even if they take her far away from where Yang’s standing, tearing it all up, the love that was once a masterpiece of limbs tangled in bedsheets and smiles pressed so close.

“Alright.” Blake whispers, the tears pooling on her eyes glimmer in the light of the night. “If that’s what you want, then I…”

But she can’t be mad at Blake, not when her chest shivers when she brushes her fingers through her skin, eyes golden as newly-melted gold.

Not when she’s the one letting her go, now.

“But I want you to know one thing. I want you to remember this like you remember your name, like you remember how to breathe and how to be.” Yang says, voice urgent and desperate.

 _It’s like I forget how to live when you’re not around me_ , Yang thinks, feels the silent flutter of Blake’s eyelashes on her own cheeks. _Like I won’t live at all until I find myself back in your arms_.

“I love you, Blake. I love the way your nose wrinkles when you smell your coffee in the morning, I love how you have to have your makeup perfectly in order on the bathroom counter, how you skip every song in your favourite playlist until you reach that one song you’ve spent the morning mumbling under your breath; I love the little dance you make when you’re waiting for me to finish using the hairbrush, the way you close your eyes before I even lean on to kiss you, and the two kisses you give me on the lips before leaving the bed in the morning that _absolutely_ have to be two.” Yang says, softly presses their temples together, and Blake swallows. “I love every single thing about you, Blake Belladonna. I’ll be in love with you until the day I die, and then I’ll look for you in the next life, and I swear I won’t let go of you ever again.”

Blake stares at her, finds her own reflection in Yang’s eyes, and she stops herself from asking her to come with her again, because she knows Yang’s heart, and she doesn’t want to be the reason why it aches.

Instead, heart combusting in her chest, she draws a smile, and Yang mimics her.

Yang’s smile blooms, her love bursting out of her like fireworks sitting in her veins. She’s loud, touchy, she spins around and words flood from her like an endless waterfall. Blake loves it, all of it. Yang turns into the embodiment of a star; everyone’s eyes would focus on her. She can be messy, exaggerated and dramatic, but Blake swears there’s nothing brighter in this world, the cause why the universe spins and the sun shines every morning. _It’s you_ , Blake wants to say, _I swear you’re the reason why I was born into this world. To find you - to love you_.

“I love you.” Tears start pouring down Blake’s cheeks, warm and thick like summer rain. “I love you, _I love you_.”

Blake takes their words for what they are - the dwindling, cheap drug to stop her hurting that only worked the first few hundred times; so she does the next right thing, and she kisses Yang in her own kind of compromise.

Yang kisses her back until her stomach unfolds and she loses track of time and space, of the feelings that she keeps tucked in underneath it.

* * *

_The holidays linger like bad perfume_ , Blake thinks, hand on the doorknob of Yang’s room, all of her things packed in her suitcase, no trace that she was ever there. _You can run, but only so far._

She goes down the stairs, Ghira and Kali already waiting for her in the car, Taiyang would be driving them to the airport. Yang decided to say goodbye on the front door of their house, and it’s all too painfully familiar for Blake, remembering how Yang watched her leave last year, her lilac eyes following her as she walked away, the sorrow that weighed on her chest for weeks.

“So I guess this is it, then.” Yang says, looking everywhere but in Blake’s direction. Ruby said goodbye earlier, choosing to give them privacy this last time.

“Yeah… I guess so.” Blake nods. These aren’t words she hadn’t heard before. She looks up and finds Yang’s gaze, catches her staring and her expression softens.

“You’ll come back next year, right?” Yang asks, placing the time to come in her hands, all the paths they’ve created, all the memories that could’ve been.

“I will. I’ll be back,” Blake whispers, her heart and all its jagged pieces pounding in her chest, letting go feels physically painful for her. “That’s a promise.”

Blake and Yang are many things, linked together though worlds apart; messy and unfitting from a distance, harmonizing when gazed up close. There’s past, there’s future, sorrow and dreams – the aching is still there, but it’s grown faint, muted under the promise of finding each other all over again.

“Then… This is goodbye.” Yang says, snowflakes starting to fall around them, covering the scene in white and blue tones, cold and familiar, like the shape of a bad dream she can’t quite shake the following morning. But this - this is painfully real. “Until next year.”

Blake nods, dark hair falling down her shoulders and not quite masking the sadness of her smile. 

_If it's okay with you, it's okay with me_ , Blake thinks. An implicit confession, their silent compromise. She’ll come back, and they’ll find each other time and time again, watch each other fall in love like the first time, build a safe place in the warm of their embrace, watch it all crumble down and melt like snow in the morning. And then, do it all again.

“Even if you’re leaving, please know that it’s never too late to come back to my side. Whenever that is.” Yang breathes out, eyes crystalline; her own heart feels jagged and pointy like a shattered mirror when the words leave her lips. She thinks of Blake’s skin pressed to hers, her shape fitting perfectly against Yang’s form when they watched the snow fall back in her truck, when they still had time, when Blake’s eyes were shimmering beautiful like stars. “And if you're ever tired of being in the big city with all those fancy people… You know you'll always have me here, Blake.”

“I know.” Blake says, palming her cheek, thumb brushing softly the skin that meets her there; looking into her eyes like a lifeline, like there’s nothing else on the surface of the world. “I’ll be thinking of you every day, Yang.”

Blake aims to keep her composure, tells herself to still herself before Yang digs too deep, unleashes everything she tried hard to bury. Yang sees this, sees the hesitation in her eyes, but she also knows the decision had been made long before they even gave in to their love again. She unravels Blake’s heart instead. All the secrets, the darkness, and the scars, the way she’s always done – And she makes it all too beautiful.

But there’s a choice there, and instead of staying under Yang’s light, Blake will take that road that leads her far away. She’ll go back to LA, where her so-called friends wait for her, writing books about her in case Blake ever makes it; but Blake’s heart won’t be there with them, it won’t be between books in the shelves of her apartment, won’t be buried deep from anyone’s sight, won’t be wandering the streets of the new city she calls her home. No, Blake’s heart will stay right here in her hometown, and she’ll spend her days wondering about her lover, her light, the only soul who can tell which smiles she’s faking.

“Blake…” Yang says, gaze dropping down while she gnaws on her bottom lip. “I--”

“Yang. Please, don’t.” Blake says. She hates that she understands what Yang isn’t saying. “I’m not going to ask you to wait for me. I can’t possibly be that selfish.”

 _I won't ask you to wait if you don't ask me to stay_ , that’s their silent deal. Blake can’t stay, but she doesn’t want to keep Yang waiting on her, she doesn’t want to be the reason why Yang’s heart aches; and Yang can’t go with her, but she also doesn’t want anyone else in the world, she could never possibly give her heart to anyone that isn’t Blake. So that’s their silent deal, their secret compromise.

_I won’t ask you to wait, if you don’t ask me to stay._

“I know, you’re way too good to be any kind of selfish.” _Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me_ , screams a voice inside Yang’s skull. _You showed me colors you know I can’t see with anyone else_. “But I… There’s no way that I--”

There’s a memory there, one that comes back from time to time to Yang’s mind: Blake, looking almost exactly as she does now, snowflakes dancing around her as they tangle in her perfect waves of dark hair, bright sky twinkling with stars on her back, fading into shadow. Blake, golden irises drawing the world with her sorrow, her love, her past and their shared promises. Blake in her arms, in her bed, in the curve of her lips and smoothing all her jagged scars, Yang’s tears running down her cheeks. _I don’t want to feel another touch_ , she’s aching, _I won’t give my heart away, baby, to anyone that isn’t you_.

“You’re crying.” Blake reaches out, brushing Yang’s cheekbones, and her words feel heavy sitting on her lips, it’s not easy learning what to let go of. Her thumbs keep collecting Yang’s tears underneath her eyes. “ _Baby_ , please, it’s okay. Don’t cry, or I’ll start crying too.”

“I’m sorry, I’m okay. It’s okay.” Yang breathes out, bringing her hand up to her eyes, the tears pooling on the corners of her eyes mock her attempt at being strong. “I know you don’t want me to be waiting on you--”

“That’s right. One year is such a long time, and I…” Blake whispers, her heart drowning in cliffside pools with her calamitous love and insurmountable grief. “I just want you to be happy, even if that’s with someone else, or--”

“Baby. Look at me, _Blake_.” Yang urges. She meets her eyes again, lilac irises fluttering under her eyelashes. She rolls her bottom lip between her teeth briefly and lets it go, building up her own breath. “Do you love me?”

“I do. Of course I do, you know that.” Blake says and wonders how that can even be a question at this point. Their love is something tangible, resilient, even if all this time they’ve been walking a very thin line. “I’ve been in love with you even before I learned my own name. You’re - you’re _everything_.”

“Then, I’ll wait.” Yang whispers to her in the small space between them, fingers curling on both sides of her face, her chin, her lips. “I’ll wait for you. I’ll break my heart and watch you leave, standing right here so you can always come back.”

“Promise.” Blake breathes out. Her heart throbs, melts at how good it feels the palm of Yang’s hand against her jawline, lilac irises finding all her weak spots. “ _Promise me._ ”

“Blake Belladonna.” Yang exhales, and leans forward, feeling the rush of delight even before capturing Blake’s mouth with her own, the thrill of brushing their lips together, of kissing her softly, feeling her close one last time. “I swear. I will wait for you. I’ll wait for you to come back for as long as you need; and when you finally do, I promise I’ll stay with you my entire life.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you found the references to Taylor Swift's lyrics, congrats! And if you didn't, I still hope you enjoyed this bitertsweet story :)  
> This isn't the end of their love, I'm planning on writing another fic based on the songs 'Champagne Problems' and 'Tolerate It' that would connect to this storyline, so stay updated if you liked it :)!


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